Patience Is A Virtue
by Seien24
Summary: Prowl and Red Alert get lost in the desert, which does nothing for Red's paranoia. Prowl being the tactical, lateral-thinking sort comes up with a good way of keeping the Security Director quiet. :3 Slash, Prowl/Red Alert, comfort fic n.n


Prowl was renowned for his patience. Patience gave one the time needed to compute logical responses; acting on one's intuition was silly and generally gave rise to bad decisions. However, having been lost out in the desert with Red Alert for a good few hours now, the tactician's patience was wearing thin.

"I'm telling you, Prowl, it's a Decepticon plot! I know it is!" Red Alert insisted as he had been doing for at least an hour now.

Prowl sighed heavily.

"Red Alert, it is not a Decepticon plot. If it were they would have attacked by now." Prowl reasoned for the millionth time, hoping to put the security director into a more stable - and bearable - state of mind.

"That's what they want you to think!" replied Red Alert.

No such luck.

"All that happened is that we are lost," Prowl tried again. "There is absolutely no reason to suppose that the Decepticons have anything to do with it."

"Why would that happen?!"

"Everything looks the same out here, especially at night. We have been out here for at least four point seven hours now. No Decepticon waits that long to attack, and we are currently stationary."

"Oh, they're just biding their time, but you wait! The moment you drop your guard, they'll attack!"

Prowl's doorwings twitched.

"Red Alert." The tactician made a visible effort to speak calmly. "I calculate a 3.2 chance that we are lost because of Decepticon interference, a 96.3 chance that it is because we simply lost our way, and a 0.5 chance that it is due to some unconsidered circumstance. Put plainly, we are _not_ under imminent attack by _any_ Decepticons!"

Red Alert was somewhat shocked into silence by the tactician's raised voice. It was so unlike the measured, calm Prowl to shout at anything except Sideswipe and Sunstreaker that the security director faltered, backing up and falling silent.

Over the flat, silent plains of the desert, the melancholy cry of a wolf echoed clearly through the night air.

Unfortunately for Prowl, the sound marked the end of an all too brief respite from Red Alert's hysteria. The poor security chief started, his face a mask of horror. He put out a hand and clutched Prowl's shoulder, pulling close to the tactician and hissing loudly.

"_Decepticons! _I knew it!"

"That is an animal native to this planet!" Cried Prowl, at a loss to know how to deal with the utterly improbable, unfounded flights of conspiratorial fancy.

Elsewhere, another wolf answered the call.

"They're Decepticon signals!" Wailed Red Alert.

Prowl turned his head and looked sadly at his companion. It suddenly occurred to him that no matter how sound his reasoning, nothing he could say would persuade the security director that there were no Decepticons attacking them. He sighed and put his arm around Red Alert, calculating that there was a 78 chance that the security chief would shut up if comforted. Red Alert drew closer with a fearful whimper, his optics scanning the area frantically for the Decepticons he was certain would appear at any moment over the horizon.

"And the alarms are still offline on level 4 sector B after Sideswipe's prank and my rifle's only on half charge and Sunstreaker's in the medbay and-"

Prowl looked down disbelievingly at the babbling security director snuggled against his hood, stunned at the level of paranoia the other Autobot was displaying.

"-and one of the cameras is down on level 3 and-"

The final exclamation was uttered in a tone bordering horror.

"-and I think I left the taps on before we left!"

Prowl said nothing, by now terrified of setting off another tirade of psychosis. He held Red Alert - who was at least slightly less agitated for the physical contact - against him, hoping that in the absence of Decepticons the security director would calm down and be sedated. It was a futile hope, of course.

"And the damage on level 2 still hasn't been patched and--"

"RED ALERT." Thundered Prowl, and the security chief faltered. Prowl continued, "the "damage" on level 2 consists of a faulty refrigeration unit belonging to Spike. It does NOT constitute a security risk!"

"You don't know that for sure!"

"Be quiet!"

"How can I be quiet when the Ark could be under attack this very momeAH!"

The tactician swung Red Alert around to face him, gripping his shoulders and glaring at him inches away from his face.

"Red Alert. Please, be quiet."

"But Prow-"

"That's an _order_."

Red Alert looked miserably up at him, and Prowl softened slightly. Red couldn't help it, he reminded himself, it was in his programming. Prowl sighed, relaxed his grip. He stroked the security chief's shoulder lightly, and Red Alert mewled.

"Prowl..."

The tactician presumed from the relative silence that his attentions were soothing his companion, and kept up his ministrations.

"Prowl,"

Red hissed insistently, quietly.

The tactician was suddenly proved very wrong in his assumption when Red Alert's cooling fans kicked in. Prowl snatched his hand back as though he'd been burnt, staring confusedly at the other mech. Red Alert looked horrified, stumbling back a step and looking away, unsure of how to react to this situation, looking left and right and everywhere else but Prowl as if looking for an escape.

The tactician cursed himself for making such a stupidly irrational move and recoiling so quickly. He calculated that coaxing Red Alert back was the best course of action, both from the view of keeping the security director quiet, and keeping him calm and reassured. Prowl sighed and held out one hand to the frightened Lamborghini, carefully softening his face, a smile hovering about the corners of his lip components. Red Alert stared.

"What are you doing, Prowl..?"

"I am sorry," murmured the Tactician. "You.. surprised me, that's all. Come back here, Red. Come on, I won't hurt you."

Red Alert glanced all around him, and once again at Prowl, before acquiescing and allowing the tactician to draw him close. A white hand trailed down his door panels and Red Alert's engines purred softly. He raised one hand to cling to the wheelwell at Prowl's shoulder, pressing his face to the police car's hood with a soft whimper. The tactician couldn't help it; he smiled, stroking the back of Red's helmet and persuading his companion down to the floor.

Red Alert gazed up at Prowl, optics feverish.

"Prowl... we're... we're safe here, yes?"

Prowl nodded affirmingly.

"We are quite safe. No harm will befall you, Red, I will see to that."

Red Alert shuddered in Prowl's arms, optics dimming, and tilted his face up expectantly. The tactician tensed his fingers a little in the desert sand and closed the distance, pressing white lips to white lips with a soft protest of metallic dermaplating.

A gentle breeze blew off the rocks, barely stirred the sand. It curled around the two Transformers, one between the other's thighs, blunt-tipped fingers caressing sheet metal. Prowl's hands ran along the contours of Red Alert's doors, stroking the curves and toying with the mechanism of the handles, whilst Red Alert rubbed his way over Prowl's bonnet, nuzzling the bumper, fingers dipping into the wells of headlights. It didn't take long for the tactician's engine's to sputter and gently rev into first gear under the security director's almost neurotic attentions. In return his hands slid upwards to feel his way around Red's wheelwells, that sensitive place that had begun this situation, and the rough moan it earned him from the other Autobot sent a soft prickle of desire straight to his spark.

Optics dazed with arousal, Red Alert tugged on Prowl's arms, inviting the tactician to cover him. Prowl acquiesced, pressing his friend down into the soft sand, supporting himself on his hands and knees over the red-and-white sports car.

"Prowwwl..." groaned Red Alert, fairly dazed with bliss as the tactician performed a quick memory scan of Red's pleasure points, and then dipped his head to nuzzle and lick at the Lamborghini's hubcaps. He clutched Prowl's midsection with both hands, trembling under the onslaught. Eventually the tactician pulled back for a moment and Red shook the haze from his vision, placing a hand on the side of Prowl's helm and pulling him down, as if for a kiss that was deflected at the last minute to the tactician's chevron instead. The moan the attentions coaxed from the tactician's vocaliser was unlike any sound Red Alert had heard from him before, so unrestrained, so ultimately _needy_.

They stayed like that for a long time, hands trailing over each other, dipping into sensitive places, Red Alert offering kisses that quickly turned into further attentions on Prowl's chevron simply to hear those wonderful noises again. When finally their energy began to wane Prowl collapsed panting on top of his companion, rolling off to the side and wrapping his arms gently around Red Alert, who nuzzled into his hood as much as was feasible. The air stank of exhaust fumes and shimmered with the heat and the gas, their engines slowly revving down, coolant systems working frantically to keep their temperature within normal parameters. They must have offlined at more or less the same time, but when Red Alert came round he found Prowl online beside him, sitting with Red's head in his lap.

"I managed to contact the Ark," were Prowl's first words, and Red Alert nodded mutely. "They're sending Skyfire out to get us back."

"Good..." Murmured Red Alert, shivering a little again. "Nothing... _happened_, while I was offline, did it..?"

Prowl sighed.

"_No_, Red. No Decepticons, nothing."

There was silence between the two mechs for a little while. Not uncomfortable, but simply the absence of the need to speak. Then,

"I hope that was a welcome distraction," Prowl remarked.

"It was, Prowl. It was enjoyable." Replied Red Alert fondly. "Thank you,"

"Not at all."


End file.
